


Wilted Clover

by Blookyberry



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Gladstone needs a hug, House of Lucky Fortune, casino tiem, evil frog, lucky?, unlucky?, who knows - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:22:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26399365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blookyberry/pseuds/Blookyberry
Summary: Ever wonder how dear old Gladdy ended up stuck in the House of Lucky Fortune? Yeah, so does he.Bright city lights promised a night of thrills. Gladstone had just got into Macaw a few evenings prior, and he planned on living it up one last night before taking his leave the next morning. The goose breathed in the cool midnight air as he continued his stroll through the artificially lit streets, an absolutely carefree atmosphere radiating off of him. After all, with luck like his, what could possibly go wrong?
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	Wilted Clover

Bright city lights promised a night of thrills. Gladstone had just got into Macaw a few evenings prior, and he planned on living it up one last night before taking his leave the next morning. The goose breathed in the cool midnight air as he continued his stroll through the artificially lit streets, an absolutely carefree atmosphere radiating off of him. After all, with luck like his, what could possibly go wrong?

Neon sign after neon sign was passed with little thought. The lucky lad was too busy thinking of where he would be traveling next to mind where he was going. See, he had been planning to make his way back to Duckburg soon. Judging by his most recent letter, good old cousin Kildare Coot would be leaving the asylum in a week or two, and Gladstone didn’t want to miss his baby cousin’s welcome back. He had missed the kookie little fellow...

The goose had been so wrapped up in his thoughts, he hadn’t noticed the elderly green toad intercepting his current path until he had collided softly with the ragged old man. Immediately, Gladstone stepped back, an apologetic look on his face. “I’m sorry, sir. Are you alright?” He rubbed the back of his head with a sheepish smile. The gander pulled a twenty out of his pocket, maneuvering around where he was keeping Kildare’s last letter, before holding it out to the amphibian expectantly. “Let me make it up to you.” Really, Gladstone was usually fortunate enough to avoid bumping into anybody, even when he was daydreaming. 

...That should have been the first red flag.

The toad returned to his previous, hunched over position as he waved the luckster off. “Oh, no, no, no... Keep your money, please. It’s quite alright.” Soon, the ancient figure turned to Gladstone, eyes like warning lights seemingly searching his very soul. The goose was slightly unnerved, but otherwise, paid the overly bright eyes no mind. The hand holding the paper bill retracted with uncertainty, and the currency was placed back into the gander’s jacket pocket. “You sure? Money isn’t really a problem.” The guy looked like he could use it more than Gladstone, anyway. To further prove his point, fate blew a stray renminbi directly into the goose’s jacket. 

This certainly seemed to grab the sickly looking frog’s attention. Gladstone never did hear the warning bells, even as the mustard eyes sized him with a veiled hunger. “You are a fortunate young bird. I actually own a casino not too far from here, but I’m afraid it is set to close soon... I’d feel terrible taking your money, but... It would be an honor to have you as one of our last guests.” 

Gladstone was about to refuse; he didn’t want to be responsible for draining a closing business of its last bits of money... but... 

The weary toad looked like he was desperate...

With a small shake of his head, the goose agreed. “Sure thing, pal. The name’s Gladstone, by the way. Gladstone Gander. Where’s this place of yours?” An almost terrifyingly sweet grin overtook the amphibian’s face as he rested a hand on the other’s shoulder and began to lead Gladstone through the bustling city. 

“Pleasure to meet you Mr. Gander. My name is Liu Hai. Rest assured, you will be treated royally at my establishment.” A few twists, a few turns. The goose soon laid eyes on a post office as they reached a sketchier stretch of street. “Just one second. I’ll be right back, just gotta send something real quick.” With that, the gander stepped inside. He had already written a letter telling his eccentric cousin of his imminent return, but impulsively, Gladstone decided to grab a pen from the front desk and scrawl down where he’d be playing during his final night in the colorful land of Macaw. Finally, he had bid the letter goodbye and walked back outside to meet the toad, half expecting him to have wandered off.

Nope, still there, waiting with patient desire. Gladstone tugged on an emerald sleeve. “Right, I’m ready to go now.” Liu Hai gave a delighted nod, and they were on their way yet again. The gander couldn’t help but notice the significant lack of lights on this side of town... Perhaps this was why the casino was closing? Poor publicity? Bad location? Gladstone didn’t care to think about it too long, and they soon reached a grand door. It certainly was a small building, and the sign was missing a few light bulbs, but it wasn’t the worst location he had gambled in.

At least, that’s what he thought…

The older of the two wasted no time in opening the entrance up and ushering the younger inside. “Please, come in, come in. Try your luck at whatever game suits your fancy, Mr. Gander.” 

The door clicked shut behind them with a feeling of finality Gladstone couldn’t quite place... 

The goose spent the rest of his night enjoying the many wonders of the casino by Liu Hai’s side. Game after game after game... the toad never left his side, and Gladstone noticed he had begun standing straighter after a few hours, pale skin gaining a richer, greener hue. He had lost track of time, agreed to spend the night.

How was he supposed to know that he had secured his own fate? That his last evening in Macaw had turned into his last evening of freedom? 

How was he supposed to know that the letter he sent out to Kildare would be the last word he’d ever get out to any of his family..? That he’d never... see them again..?  
That one night had turned into two, four, sixteen, eighty... Gladstone had lost count. Everyday was a nightmare, every night an exhausting blur. The vampire had shown his honest nature, locking the gander in like a sacred treasure in a museum and playing with him like a beloved toy. Every escape attempt led to immediate recapture, every desperate message never even had the chance to get out. It’s not like anybody would look for him anyway... Gladstone, contrary to proper belief, wasn’t completely stupid. He knew all hope was lost.

Those bright, fake city lights had blinded the goose, hiding the stars, the true lights, from his view.

And, oh, had he paid dearly for it...

**Author's Note:**

> Yikes. Gladstone hasn't exactly had it easy, has he? This work may remain a one shot, or it may continue, should motivation strike. Who knows? Hope you liked the story!


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